


Doll Parts

by conceptofzero



Series: Doll [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU of an AU of an AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:20:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her name is the Parcel Mistress and she is not a slave. [AU of Like a Paper Doll]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doll Parts

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Rag Doll](https://archiveofourown.org/works/117155) by [Ember_Keelty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ember_Keelty/pseuds/Ember_Keelty). 



> This story is an AU of [Like a Paper Doll](http://archiveofourown.org/works/265481), which is an AU of Ember_Keelty's [Rag Doll](http://archiveofourown.org/works/117155), which is an AU of her fic [Breaking Point](http://archiveofourown.org/works/114326). You should really read those ones before you read this one.

Her name is the Parcel Mistress and she is not a slave.

This world is dark and cold. It hurts to breathe. The atmosphere isn't quite suited for her lungs. That's not a coincidence. There are no coincidences when it comes to the planets Jack chooses for this.

Her attempts to kill him have become a game to Jack. In each universe he enters, he chooses a world and a weapon, and he gives her a chance to kill him.

This world is dark and cold and she's exposed. There are so many black surfaces to blend in to. Her eyes slide over them, looking for the tell-tale flash of green, or his dark tentacles, or snout. She's all too easy to see, while against black. He dresses her in white today, white for the first time in- in-

In so long that she can't remember the last universe he let her wear that shade. She can't remember how many times they've done this, how many worlds she's watched him destroy for destruction's sake. There aren't words for his crimes.

Her name is the Parcel Mistress and she is not a slave. This is her mantra. She thinks it over and over again and she clutches the knife in her hand. He's stripped away so many other things, but he won't take this. He won't take her name. She's not a doll, not a toy, not his whore. Her name is PM and she is not a slave.

She spots him right beside her, his carapace shining like an oil slick against the dull black of the planet. PM pretends to turn away, and then lunges at him, trying to slice off his hand, off his fucking fingers. His hand is turned away from her and when she grabs his arm, she sees it clear - four glowing orbs. She slices, and the knife cuts through a green afterimage. He's already gone, and she spins around, eyes seeking him out.

There's a spot of light to the right and she carefully moves toward it. It's likely a trap. It has to be a trap. Jack's not so careless. He hasn't been careless since she nearly got him a hundred worlds ago. She had him, she almost had him- it kills her to think that she failed.

No, not failed. It was a set-back. She can't think about failures. The last time she thought about failures, she lay down on the floor and didn't move until Jack forced her her to. She won't let him do that a second time. PM won't let him break her again, and she sure as hell won't let him put her back together.

It's a trap and PM runs away from it, her lungs burning as she gulps in the air. It won't kill her, she knows that. Nothing's allowed to kill her except Jack. Nothing's allowed to touch her, except Jack. The Dignitary's missing left hand makes it clear that she's not even to be helped off the floor by anyone else. She scrambles over sharp rock and her eyes sweep the area for Jack. He's here, she knows he is.

A flash of green right behind her, and she spins, sticking the knife right into his torso. It phases through and disintegrates in her hands, the metal going hot a split second before she pulls her hand away. It hurts. Jack wraps his hand around her neck and shoves, and they're falling, her back smashing into the hard unforgiving planet surface.

Her hands claw at him and he squeezes her throat, giving her a nasty smile with all those sharp teeth. Jack doesn't say a word, just squeezing until she can't breathe. There's not enough oxygen in the atmosphere to let her struggle for long, not enough in her lungs to let her fight. Her hands go slack and her vision goes dark, and then just on the edge, he lets go and she sucks in a breath, barely getting enough to keep her body awake.

Jack shreds her dress, tearing into it with his tentacles and his mouth. Strips of fabric fall on either side of her, and in his jaws, she sees them hang there like dead things. She's so weak, still fighting to stay conscious when he parts her thighs. Black wings stay outspread, casting a dark shadow over them and turning Jack almost invisible. The face of a monster dangles overhead, and the voice of the man she hates most slips between its jaws. "You're getting worse doll. I think you want to lose."

The desperate mantra runs through her head. Her name is the Parcel Mistress and she is not a slave.

He's inside her in a moment, driving his own dagger home. She remembers he once said he wouldn't do that to her, like he deserved a medal. That was a long time ago, a very long time ago. He's been doing that for ages now, and no matter how many times it happens, she never gets over how awful it is. She struggles to breath, to survive, and he just fucks her without concern for her well being. Jack's hand grabs her breast, the only one she has left, squeezing it tight as he thrusts into her.

She used to try kill him when he did this. He took one of her breasts as punishment, but that wasn't what stopped her from trying. That was just physical. It was the emotional torture she couldn't handle, the way he ground her down to dust after each encounter and made her sick to her stomach. After a while, she just went away. She would just... stop being there. Her mind would wander off and hide until the physical part was done, until Jack was panting at her breast and it was over. But then he started realizing she was leaving, and he started to hurt her to make her stay. These days, she always stays. She needs to remember all of this. PM can't afford to go away, because the next time she goes, she'll never come back.

Jack's hips rut against her, driving hers into the ground. It hurts. She's going to be bruised when he's finished. The wings beat a little with effort as he moves, as his cock slips in and out. His tongue lolls out and slides over her face, leaving a wet, cold trail along her cheek. "If you're not having fun anymore, just tell me doll," He tells her, hot breath on her face, "We can skip the weapon, go straight to the fucking. Your cunt's right on board with that suggestion."

His hand squeezes again, hard enough to make her gasp. That's what he wants from her. Sounds. He wants her to beg. Jack wants her to stop fighting him, to just lay down and spread her thighs and beg. He doesn't just want to win. He wants her to want him to win. Jack's prick slides deep inside of her and she grits her teeth as she feels her body reacting to him. It's not her body's fault – Jack knows her. He's had time to learn all of its secrets. Her mind stays revolted, stays disgusted by his touch, by the drying saliva on her face and the clammy feeling of his hand pawing at her.

There's a sharp rock just out of her grasp. It's only a rock, but it's something, a weapon that he doesn't seem to have noticed. Jack fucks mercilessly, forcing little grunts and gasps from her, but her mind isn't on this. Her mind is on the rock. Jack's getting slack again. Jack's getting complacent. It's taken thousands of rapes, billions of worlds, and more genocides than she can remember, but he's letting his guard down again. He's getting lazy. He's remembering the weapon, but not the environment.

One of his tentacles slips between them and into her, pressing down against her clit while he keeps thrusting. She hates them so much, the way they're always where she least wants them, how they creep over her. When she kills him, if the tentacles are still there, she's going to rip them out of his sides and stomp on them. She'll wrap them around his neck and let him see how it feels for once.

Jack's wings sway as they keep him upright, stirring up dust and little rocks. She lifts her arms, she grabs onto his neck and she squeezes, even as his fingers begin to make her moan. Jack just laughs, pulling her hands off with the other tentacle and pinning them above her head. "No? Still want to do this? Whatever you like doll-"

The tentacle grinds down and that's it, that's all she can take. Her hands clench and she comes with a shudder, turning her face to the side. She doesn't want to look at him while she comes. Her thoughts are blotted out for a second by pleasure, her entire body focused on just feeling instead of thinking. She comes back, and Jack's got his hand on her neck, just holding her down as he thrusts. The rock is too far away to reach, but next time it won't be. Next time, while he's buried inside of her, whispering his sick nothings into her ear, she'll be able to reach for a weapon he's not expecting. Next time, she'll kill him.

He comes with a loud groan, hips slamming as deep as they can inside of her and then stilling. His head rests on her breast and he collapses against her. PM is still twitching from her own aftershocks, the little horrible pulse of heat making everything else feel shockingly cold. Jack just lies on her body, mouth curling into a satisfied grin, his tentacles squeezing her tight. She looks up into a night sky empty of stars and knows they'll be leaving soon. Jack's nearly exhausted this universe. It'll be on to the next to find new worlds to destroy, new people to meet and kill.

She hears him chuckle, mouth pressed against the side of her breast. "Maybe I shouldn't have taken the other one. But we all make mistakes." He raises his head and kisses her. PM can't remember what kissing normal people is like anymore. It's been too long since she had someone with lips to touch. It's been forever since she made love instead of being raped. That's fading from her mind, like so many other things are fading.

"That's good doll, that's good." He licks her neck and slides out of her, getting to his feet. She's so cold, and so tired, and she wants to just lie there. But she doesn't. She gets up. One of his tentacles curls around her waist, the tip of it pressing against her entrance. "I could give you a little more, if you just ask."

She doesn't ask. PM lets her arms hang by her side. Her eyes are on the dark empty sky above.

Jack shrugs and he lets go of her. "You need to stop sulking doll. I'm starting to lose my patience."

"I'm not sulking." Her voice is hoarse. It usually is these days. She doesn't have many reasons to speak anymore, so she doesn't. "I'm just tired."

"Not sleeping again? We'll fix that." Jack steps in close to her, his hand resting on the curve of her ass. "You just need a little R&R. Maybe I'll put you to bed for a week, and you can just sleep and sleep." He doesn't say the other part, but she knows that he means more that sleeping. He means she can lay there and he can come and go as he pleases and use her whenever he feels like it.

"Sleep would be nice." He's getting lazy. He took out all the sharp things a long time ago, but he's getting lazy again. Maybe his next gift to her will be something pretty, something expensive, something capable of cutting a finger off. Her time will come. She just needs to wait.

And when it comes, when he's dead? Then she can rest. Then she can lie down and die if she wants to. Until then, she needs to keep moving. The mantra runs through her head as he teleports them off the face of the planet.

Her name is the Parcel Mistress and she is not a slave.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Stand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/542856) by [Ember_Keelty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ember_Keelty/pseuds/Ember_Keelty)
  * [After You Kill a Tyrant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/639541) by [Ember_Keelty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ember_Keelty/pseuds/Ember_Keelty)




End file.
